


Wind Surfing

by WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Flying, Gen, Human Castiel, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns/pseuds/WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas stuck his hand out a car window once ... and then it kind of became a habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind Surfing

Castiel has this habit of sticking his hand out of the window when he’s driving. Especially if it’s an endless, barren stretch of highway with little or no traffic. He will roll down the window and stick a hand out, letting the wind rush above and below his hand, the wind chilling his fingers and whooshing between the gaps of his fingers, the pressure of the wind pushing it back, and Cas enjoying the odd tickle of the rushing wind and smiling. It's just so much _fun_.

The first time Cas felt this particular fondness for the rushing wind was several years ago. He was in the impala with Sam and Dean, his powers dwindling, his grace fading, the blood on his face crusting up and he, himself was very exhausted. He leaned his head back and Dean told him to roll the window down, the air conditioner was acting up, so he did.

He closed his eyes and the impala roared louder as Dean pressed down on the accelerator, the wind pounded against the drying blood, annoying him at first and tickling him soon after, it chilled his heated features, it made him get those funny goose bumps and oddly, it made him smile.

He was an angel, he could fly, but having wings didn’t mean flying like a bird. It was more like teleportation than anything else, going from one place to another with a particular purpose and with such speed that enjoying flight wasn’t really possible. Cas was a young boy when he had initially enjoyed flying, when he flew just for the sake of feeling the wind ruffle his feathers, ease out the tension, give him the illusion of freedom while simultaneously being shackled to the bounds of heaven.

Then he grew up, then he had jobs, brothers to please and attempt to fit in.

Cas lifted his hand against the pressure and laughed when the wind shoved his hand away, the boys looked around in surprise when Castiel continued to laugh, tired eyes lighting up with mirth as he extended his arm out of the window and experimented with wind ‘surfing’. He chuckled, “This is extremely fun, Sam, try it.”

Sam smiled warmly, “He _is_ a baby in a trench coat”, Sam rolled his window down completely, frowning when the wind pushed the hair into his eyes, causing the other two to laugh. It must have looked extremely strange when a 1967 chevy impala raced through the back roads and barren highways that night, with three grown men sticking their hands out of the windows, their laughter echoing through the dense forests.

This soon became a habit. When he would take a bus, or hitch a ride, or drive a car, he would roll the window down a little if not completely and close his eyes, letting himself smile.

Once, it was just him and Sam in the car, Castiel in the passenger seat and he asked Sam if he could roll the window down. Sam didn’t say no. Cas, like an excited child, rolled down the window and leaned as close to the open window as he could, his features relaxing and the tension easing, strangely reminiscent of when he would fly for the fun of it.

His face was freezing, it was early November, but he didn’t really care. Time is a stupid human construct anyway. Something warm slipped down his cheeks. It was scorching hot against his frozen face, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and the impala slowed down noticeably.

“Cas?”

Cas opened his eyes and found his vision was a little blurry, he blinked before answering, “Yes?”

“Are … are you crying?” Sam’s eyes shone with concern even at this hour of the night, his brows furrowed, lips frowning, and alarm evident on his face.

Suddenly self-conscious, Cas brought his hand up to his face and wiped away the tears, “I guess I am” he laughed, “that’s new.”

“Cas …”

“It’s nothing.” He tried that strange reassuring smile thing he’d seen Dean do several times.

Sam arched his brows questioningly.

“I” Cas sighed and shrugged and then cleared his throat, “I miss my wings.”


End file.
